


Methods to My Violence

by pretzelduck



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injuries, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck
Summary: After Mox's beatdown by MJF, Darby does his best to take care of his boyfriend (even if it sounds weird to call him that) despite the fact that he's more than a little irritated with him.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Darby Allin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Methods to My Violence

**Author's Note:**

> *Set after the September 2nd, 2020 episode of Dynamite
> 
> *The rating is entirely for all of the swearing. :)
> 
> *I don't think I've ever written a fic so quickly in my life. I'm still not sure where this whole idea came from.

The towels were probably a lost cause.

Darby figured he could chuck them in a dumpster or something when they left. Hotels had to be used to stuff like that going missing. But there was enough blood on them for housekeeping to suspect a murder or something and call the cops. The thought that it was an idiot wrestler probably wouldn't cross their mind. Doctors had gotten the bleeding stopped and the wounds patched up backstage but Mox had slammed his fist into his forehead the minute they got into their hotel room. So now they were hanging out in a bathroom crime scene in their underwear.

There was no point in getting any more blood on their clothes, after all.

Thankfully, between both of their first aid kits, they'd had the supplies to get the bleeding stopped a second time. Darby couldn't help but smile a bit at the memory of the first time they'd looked after each others' injuries. There had been something amusing about the fact that they had pulled identical first aid kits out of their suitcases. It had put him at ease in a way that he hadn't been able to explain. Mox had simply smirked and insisted that Darby getting an ice pack for a random bruise was more important than the gash on his own arm. At least this time, there was none of that nonsense. He'd be sore from the brawl in the morning but Mox was a mess.

"I can see why you didn't tell me anything other than you were gonna get the gremlin riled up."

Mainly because if he had known that Mox was basically going to goad MJF into beating him into a pulp, he would have been running out there - their current 'stay out of my feud' agreement be damned. 

Also, Darby knew he sounded completely unimpressed but he was allowed to be vaguely irritated with his boyfriend when he did stupid shit. It wasn't like it didn't work in reverse. The series of text messages from Mox he'd gotten after the video aired of him jumping off the bridge were a masterclass in the different ways the word 'fuck' could be used. That was just how they were. However, it definitely didn't mean that he had liked just standing there backstage and watching Mox getting his face smashed in by a moron that he had intentionally pissed off.

"Don't start, Darbs." He had no idea when Mox had started calling him that and he had no idea why he had never bothered correcting him but he was stuck with it now. It was okay, he supposed. "All the talking was stupid..." Darby waited since he knew there had to be more to it than that. "... needed the violence."

There it was.

And it made sense to him too. They were a lot alike in that. They both thrived on the blood and the pain and the risk. And there hadn't been enough of that in the feud with MJF for Mox. So he'd dared him to go that far. Pushed and poked and prodded. Mox had quite literally incited a violent beatdown just to hype himself up for a title match. Which meant Darby was now crouched on a cold tile floor holding a hastily-constructed and rapidly-melting ice pack to Mox's forehead.

There was a lecture on the tip of his tongue but it had been too long of a day to start being a hypocrite. Darby just hated seeing Mox hurt which was weird given their history and profession but not weird given that they were dating. It was equally weird, though, that it was an open secret. They hadn't said anything to anyone but no one had even batted an eye at Darby being right there as soon as Mox was helped backstage. And the doctors had given him instructions on what to look out for like it was assumed that Darby would be the one taking care of him. It was the sort of thing that neither of them were really used to but it had been going better than he'd expected.

Darby definitely hadn't been sure of what was going to happen after that first night. They'd kissed, fooled around, and fallen asleep. But then Mox was still there in the morning and they'd wandered off together to some diner for greasy bacon and cheesy eggs. They hadn't really been apart since. Followed each other to hotels and skate parks and gyms. Dating had almost been a complete accident but it worked. They worked.

Even when he was irritated.

"Do you think he knows how screwed he is on Saturday?"

That brought out Mox's slightly sadistic smile so Darby knew he was at least feeling a little better. Or the pain medication had finally kicked in. Even if Mox had refused any more from the doctors other than the bare minimum needed to sleep. 

"Nope." Mox popped the 'p' and as usual, the only way Darby could describe it was adorable. He had no intention to ever say that out loud but it was. "Bonehead thought banning the paradigm shift was a good idea, didn't he?"

"True." 

And Darby assumed that MJF had no idea just how stupid of a gameplan that had been. The paradigm shift was a bitch of a move - his own head and neck could attest to that - but it was a predictable sort of pain. Instead, banning it had only encouraged Mox to get more creative with his pain. He had been listing submission moves in his sleep for the past week; some of which Darby had had to look up in the morning because he had never even heard of them. Even a good chunk of their downtime had been spent watching old Minoru Suzuki matches for inspiration purposes. 

The bonehead was boned.

"That ring kinda stung, though." Translated from Moxley to English, that meant it really fucking hurt. "Gotta remember that."

MJF didn't get that either. Now Mox knew what getting hit with the ring felt like so it was pain that he could prepare for. It was like landing on thumbtacks or getting hit with barbed wire. Once you'd experienced it a few times, you could adjust to the pain quicker and easier. It still hurt but you understood the pain better. The gremlin hadn't had matches like that. He was so screwed. Mox was going to destroy him. Part of that certainty was his own faith in his boyfriend - which was still a weird thing to call Mox - but that was another thing that Darby wasn't going to mention out loud. It sounded sappy enough inside his own head.

"It'd be easier to remember things if you didn't get hit in the head so much."

So a little bit of that lecture slipped through. The really hypocritical part too, especially given how often he used his own head as a weapon or battering ram or soft place to land. He was allowed to worry, though. It was part of the appeal of their whole...relationship. Someone that gave a shit if you got hurt doing something stupid but understood why you did it in the first place.

"Darbs…" 

Mox's eyes narrowed but that glare had been way less effective ever since Darby had seen him use it on a piece of sweet and sour chicken that he'd been unable to pick up with chopsticks. But he didn't really want to get into an argument.

"You ready to try and sleep?"

And that was probably cheating. As he'd learned, injured Mox could find a way to keep going through all sorts of pain and exhaustion until Darby asked him about sleep. It was like it was a signal that it was okay to finally crash or something. 

"Bastard."

Once again, it worked because Mox was smiling and it was _that_ smile. Soft and actually sweet, it looked like it should be out of place on Mox's gruff face but it wasn't. Only to himself, Darby thought of it as his smile. There was a warmth and contentment in it that he had never seen directed at him before.

"Asshole."

They had the most bizarre endearments for one another. It was probably a bad sign that the first time he had referred to Mox as 'asshole' with their sort of teasing affection in public, everyone in the locker room had looked at them like they were crazy except Lance Archer, who had just nodded like it made perfect sense. 

The ice pack was another lost cause at this point - more full of water than ice - so he stood up to toss it in the sink. Along the way, he snuck a quick kiss to the more uninjured of Mox's cheeks. Leaning back against the counter, Darby waited for Mox to try and stand up. Another thing he had learned: there were times that Mox reacted badly to any sort of help. It was best to give him just enough space to figure out if he was going to fall on his ass or not. Darby could feel his face scrunch up as he watched Mox wobble as he stood up, hand braced against the wall. His head tilted slightly to the left as Mox took a single step before looking down dubiously at his own feet. Darby figured he'd give him one more step to realize that he needed help before offering it. 

Mox looked up from his feet and met Darby's eyes almost sheepishly. Damn. He would have liked it far better if Mox had been able to get to bed without his help. Taking up position under his arm, Darby slowly maneuvered him out of the bathroom. It wasn't that he didn't want to help but it was never a good sign when Mox knew he needed it. The idea that he was _that_ hurt… in _that_ much pain? Darby hated it. For a moment, he wished he was someone else. Someone bigger and taller and stronger. Someone that could just easily pick Mox up and carry him to bed. It was a foolish and mushy thought but for Mox, he wanted to be more than he was.

Thankfully, they were in a hotel room and not a condo or something so it wasn't too far from the bathroom to the bed. As gingerly as they could manage, Mox sat down on the edge of the bed. For once, Darby was glad that both of them were awful at remembering to make the bed or removing the 'do not disturb' sign so a housekeeper could do it. Darby watched Mox carefully get himself settled laying down as he stood there twisting his hands back and forth, torn between doing too much and not enough. Waiting a moment until he was satisfied that Mox was as in position as he was going to get, Darby pulled the sheet and blankets up around him.

"Tucking me in, Darbs?"

"Shut up, Mox."

A quick peek at the bathroom told him that straightening that mess up could wait until morning. He did take a wet washcloth to the last remnants of face paint around his ear, though. His own head was starting to pound and he needed to get away from the artificial light. Starks hit pretty hard for a punk bitch, to borrow Mox's words. Darby finished turning lights off and went to grab a pillow from the bed for the sofa. His hand had barely touched fabric when Mox startled him.

"Don't even think about sleeping on the couch." 

That was the plan too. He wasn't the most still of sleepers and Mox needed his rest. The absolute last thing he needed was to be kicked in the side or something.

"I don't…"

He hadn't even finished two words before he felt Mox's hand briefly close around his.

"Get in this bed. Now." Darby contemplated just ignoring him and walking away. He didn't really need the pillow. "Don't make me make you."

Mox was just growly enough and definitely stubborn enough to follow through on that. And then he would undoubtedly do something else stupid and Darby wasn't up to performing any more first aid tonight. That was the only reason he crawled into the bed. It had nothing to do with wanting to be close to his boyfriend or sleeping better beside him. 

Nothing at all.

Shifting to the very edge of the bed, Darby laid facing away from Mox. If he was going to be here, then he was going to give him as much space as possible. Mox, on the other hand, obviously had other ideas. An arm was suddenly draped across him and he felt Mox grab ahold, trapping both arms against his body. He had just enough time to roll his eyes before he was yanked backward and pulled against Mox's chest. But for as roughly as he had been pulled, there was an equal amount of gentleness in the way Mox was holding him. He should want to move away; however, the reality was that he was too damn fond of being right where he was. Liked being held like he was something precious. But there were more important things than how much he enjoyed those arms around him right now. Darby opened his mouth to attempt to argue but it was probably pointless.

"Shut up and let me hold you, Darbs."

"Idiot."

"Your idiot."

Mox punctuated the thought with a soft kiss to the back of his head and tightened his arms in a way that was simply a comfort to them both. Darby took one of Mox's hands and twined their fingers together.

"My idiot."

-fin- 


End file.
